


Temptation

by Defnotmeyo



Category: The X-Files
Genre: TW: miscarriage not major character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defnotmeyo/pseuds/Defnotmeyo
Summary: Tumblr challenge from @sunflowerseedsandscience read: ATTENTION FELLOW WRITERS: I NEED SOME HELPI’m en route to an event I don’t really feel up to attending and we’re playing Billy Joel and “Temptation” came on and JESUS CHRIST MULDER COULD BE SINGING THAT SONG ABOUT SCULLY. Could some kind person or persons listen to it if you’re not familiar with it and if it inspires you, write something sweet to get me through tonight?So this popped out... and I kinda liked it.





	Temptation

It’s essentially his last-ditch effort. The phone call was out of the blue and also not quite unexpected. 

“Spook.”

He sighed. “What’s up Danny?”

“Come out tonight, bruh.”

“Danny…”

Danny’s voice got softer. “Fox. You’ve said no for six years now. Look man… Megan and me, we… well we split up. Please, man. I just need to be around people tonight. Invite Scully.”

“She’s not exactly my biggest fan right now, Dan,” Mulder stressed.

“So what, Spook? Maybe it’s time to make peace.” There was a click with no good-bye.

The door opened immediately after and Mulder had to wonder if she’d been listening in. “I’m outta here Mulder, any plans for the rest of the night?” She was trying to bridge the Diana-sized gap. Smooth over the argument from the Gunman’s lair.

“Well uh… Actually, Scully, Danny and Megan have been having some trouble and I guess Megan split.”

“Ah, Mulder, that’s horrible!” Danny had been kind to them both, over the years.

“Yeah so uh, well… I know it isn’t our scene but do you want to maybe catch some karaoke with me tonight? Drinks on me.” He saw her edge out of the door and edge out of his plans just the same. “Scully,” his voice paused her. “Come out for Danny. He’s my friend.”

Fox Mulder had few friends and so, sigh out and eyebrow quirked, Scully went along.

That was how Mulder found himself in the circular table, six beers and a whiskey deep, with his Academy classmates shouting, “Spook! Spook! Spook! Spook!” without a trace of malevolence. 

It seemed that years and beers tamped down the hatred. 

Scully indulgently had put up with the flirting and boasting from all the men at the center table. She was borderline buzzed herself, and felt the spirit of the evening. It almost reminded her of a normal life. Except that normal life didn’t contain drunk Fox Mulder repeatedly brushing up against her left thigh, grasping her knee with every story he told or joke he relayed. Mulder had charisma when he attempted to use it. 

Danny pushed another whiskey towards him and Mulder gulped it down. “Alright, alright.” The table burst into cheers.

He stood and rolled his shoulders, cocked his neck.

Scully understood the signs. This was Mulder’s false confidence body language. His peacocking. He did it all the time at the range, because he was a worse shot than her and they both knew it, and the peacocking helped him shoot.

He threw her a look over his shoulder as he marked down what song he wanted.

Scully wanted to blush in embarrassment for him. Dammit Mulder… karaoke. 

She held her breath… more from blushing than anything else, when he took the stage. 

Mulder hung his head and nervously shuffled back and forth as the surprisingly cheesy sax solo took over.

‘Oh. Oh no,’ Scully thought. 

“It’s time for me to be on my way, I know. I’ve got business to conduct,” he opened, drunk-slushy syllables jittery and hesitant. “And I’ve got places to go, but I can’t help looking at her instead.” He shuffled the mic stand between his hands inch to inch and kept staring at the bottom left corner of the stage. 

“Ugh….” Scully groaned and rolled her eyes back, closing them in sympathetic embarrassment. Why this song? She had no idea he was a Billy Joel fan.

He cleared his throat and by the time Mulder launched into, “And it’s my fascination, that’s making me act this way,” his voice had taken on an odd, yet not completely off-putting, gravely quality that caused her to open her eyes and look up. He wasn’t bad… actually.

He right handed the mic stand, knuckles turning a little white and Scully could see the sweat beading from five tables back. Mulder closed his eyes, shifted his left hand up, plugging his ear with his index finger. By the time that he rolled into, “I should be leaving, but I can’t cut loose,” he was fully in tune and well… he sounded like Mulder… but Mulder singing. His left leg was tapping down to keep time. It was the weirdest sensation Scully had felt in a while and she couldn’t completely blame it on the beers.

Danny was whooping along with some of the other feds. 

Scully had been staring at him for almost a full minute.

She wasn’t ready when he opened his eyes, because he was fully trained on her, and they locked. “I never claimed to be a hero, and I never said I was a saint…” He cut his eyes after. He wasn’t dumb enough to disclose himself in front of the forensics division. 

Scully was just glad she had the where-with-all not to knock her beer over when Danny called over, “Dana!”

She tore her eyes over, nodded her head up in question.

“He’s not fucking bad! Who knew Spook could sing?”

She smiled perfunctorily, “Who knew?

Mulder came down off the stage, completely drenched in sweat. He brushed past all the high fives and took two twenties out of his back pocket. “Thanks, man,” he handed them to Danny.

He walked by Scully, grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. “Seeya, Scully. I’m headed home.”

She was up and off the chair after him seconds later. Outside it was pouring, and he was standing under the overhang, waiting for the cab.

“What the hell was that about, Mulder?”

He was slouched up against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Headed home, Scully. One too many.”

“No, Mulder. The song.”

He caustically chuckled, and side eyed her. “The song.”

“So Diana…”

“Scully, you are so fucking blind.”

She was stunned silent. He never talked to her like that.

He shook his head and huffed, “Fuck.” Banged the back of it against the wall. “This was a dumb idea.”

She walked over and turned, stood shoulder to bicep with him, butted up against the wall. 

A yellow cab pulled up, honked. Mulder heaved a sigh and looked her way. He couldn’t resist brushing her hair back, behind her ear. 

“Never gonna be who you want me to be, Scully. And my past can’t change itself.” He walked towards the cab.

“Mulder…” she trailed off. 

He looked up as he opened the door. They stood, silent, awkward. 

“The hallway before Antarctica, Scully.”

“What?”

He smiled at her, small, close lipped, unhappy. “It’s the first time I can remember that I wished the X-files weren’t the first thing I thought about when I woke up. Talk to you, Monday.”

\-----

It was almost twenty minutes later when she felt Danny slide up against her on the wall.

Danny and Mulder had been friends when she was assigned to the X-files, and six years later, Scully remained convinced Danny was the only sign that Mulder was capable of a normal life. Up against the wall he was warm, and familiar, and he and Mulder wore the same cologne.

“You didn’t leave with Spooky?” Danny asked.

“Um, no. No, Danny, I didn’t leave with Mulder. Just came out for some fresh air.”

“Bull shit. But I’ll take it.” He burped softly, edged up a little closer. In her six-ish years, Danny had been the only friend of Mulder’s they’d gone out with together, and certainly the person they’d gone out with the most. There’d been more than a few   
lunches, even a happy hour here and there, especially in the first three years. Danny sighed. “You guys have disappeared, down there.”

She wasn’t in the mood to be lectured on their dedication to the basement. She pushed a few inches away from him. “Mmm.”

“Ten years, Dana. I was with Megan for ten years. I felt like it was over in a day.”

The rain continued to poor. She cleared her throat and made an effort. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

The friends were quiet for minutes. 

Danny initiated, “You know what finally ended it? After everything?” She quirked an eyebrow and nodded her head. “The miscarriage.”

Scully was genuinely shocked at that point. “What? Danny that was five years ago!”

He bit his lip and gave her a little boy smile. “Doesn’t matter. These things fester. I had no idea that for five years she sat blaming me for not being enthusiastic enough when she told me she was pregnant.” He shrugged. “Who was I to jump into the deep   
end? I was 35 going on 20. But I should have tried.”

“I’m sorry Danny. You can’t blame yourself for mistakes you made five years ago.” Her mind was elsewhere but Danny was Mulder’s best friend and she would put the effort in if Mulder couldn’t.

He shrugged, dropped a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulled her close even as she pressed opposite for a quick second. The alcohol dulled her dedication to resist any and all comfort.

“All I’m saying,” Danny stared straight ahead, “Is that I like Fox. A lot. He’s a good guy. And I hate that I ever called him Spooky at the Academy because that shit stuck. You’ve been sick, he’s been shot, you just GOT shot.” He didn’t need to remind her. This   
was her first time drinking since coming off the Percocet. “Is what you guys are working on, down in that office… Is it worth it?”

“We all risk our lives, Danny,” she hip shoved up against his heavier right pocket, where his badge is sitting.

“I’m not talking about life, Dana. I just…” he pushed off the wall, frustrated, pacing back forth. “Look, Megan and I, I thought we were meant to be together, forever. I guess tonight I’m just wishing someone gets their happy ending for once. Open your eyes,   
the man loves you.”

Scully was suddenly angry, tired of having the obvious thrown in her face the entire night. “You think I don’t know that, Danny? It’s not that simple. WE are not that simple.”

He smiled at her, stopped mid-pace. A cab pulled up behind him. “Nothing ever is Dana. No one ever is.” His mood had shifted in drunk affability. “Cab’s yours. I called ‘em as soon as you stepped out. Knew you and Mulder would find a way to fuck up whatever you talked about out here.”

She was simultaneously grateful and offended. “Danny…”

“Just tell the driver where to go. It’s on me, but the choice is yours.” He gave her a quick, awkward hug. “Talk to you next week, and thanks for coming out.” Danny shuffled back towards the bar and there was a gust of air and noise across her face as he   
opened the door.

She hurried through the rain over to the cab and slid in. 

“Where to, ma’am?”

Scully stared out at the overhang by the bar.

“Ma’am?”

“2630 Hegal Place. Arlington.”  
\-----  
Weeks earlier, after the ashes of El Rico had settled, thick and black around his psyche, he sat down for a night of beers and conspiracies with Frohike. Byers and Langly had been off with him since his fight with Scully, but the little man had been through a lot with Mulder. 

Mulder tried to steer the conversation away, but during the inevitable lull Frohike seized his chance. 

"At some point, Mulder, it's gonna be her or the X-Files-"

"I realize this, Melvin."

"And not because she's gonna leave you. She won't. You're going to have to make the choice for her. And yourself."

"What are you saying?"

The Gunman looked at him sadly, not as a hacker, not as Frohike, but as his friend. "I'm saying, that the choice isn't between her and the X-Files, because she is never going to ask you to choose. I'm saying, if you don't choose her and get out, or you don't force her out without you, you're gonna get her killed."

Mulder stared at his beer and the muscle in his jaw jumped back and forth. 

"And Mulder," Frohike continued, brave with beer, "Not for nothing but if you keep dismissing her when she brings you valid information about Diana, that choice won't even be yours to make."

Fortunately, when Mulder pitched his bottle across the room, the bottle was empty. 

That night, karaoke night, Mulder wasn't surprised at all she skipped knocking and went right to her key. She knew he wouldn't answer. He knew she'd come over. He sat on his couch staring at his eighth beer of the night, an open one next to it sweating on the table. 

The door swung open. "Second one's yours," he mumbled. 

She came across and sat next to him, forward and tense on the couch. Grabbed the bottle and rolled it back and forth between her hands after her first sip. 

She opened. "So uh... that was some song, Mulder."

He huffed, shoulders hunched.

"Remind me to never sing you asleep again because you are WAY better than me," she continued to prod conversation.

The silence continued to overwhelm. 

Scully, ever defiant, ever brave, ever in pursuit of the truth, continued to press. "Is... Is that what you think of me, Mulder? That I'm tempting you… distracting you, pulling you from the X-files? That I'm trying to?" 

He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. She was hurt. "No, no."

A second later, "Yes." He looked up and grabbed her right hand off her bottle, twining their fingers. "But not in the way you think."

"Not really much of a way to take that, Mulder."

"I just..." he sighed, frustrated. Knew the next few minutes were going to hurt her. Felt like they were always a few seconds away from him saying something to hurt her. "Diana has been part of the chase. Always. From the beginning."

Her hand went limp in his and he knew he was fumbling but he had to press on. "Diana and this....” he sighed, “this, this, this, this fucking quest I seem to be on, she's just a part of it, Scully."

Scully started to pull her hand away but he gripped hard. "You. You're outside of it for me." She stopped. "I never saw Diana outside of the X-Files because I never intended to.

"Look, you talked about getting out of the car, right? I never wanted to get out of the car, but last summer, last week, yesterday... Fuck, every day now, I want to blow the fucking car up. It's not just the X-Files I need you on, Scully. It's... It's this." He waved the beer bottle back and forth between them. 

"But you want the house still. The house with the fence and the dog. And if I don't find out what happened to my sister, what really happened, and if... if I don’t find out what was behind El Rico..., and what happened to you - Scully if I don’t find the truth, I'm going to tear us apart." 

Mulder, for once, began to run out of words. 

She hadn't tightened her hand back against his until that moment. "Mulder..." She paused. They really weren't ready for this. Scully chewed her bottom lip. "Mulder." She sat up straight, breathed in deep then sighed her shoulders down, looked ready to lift two hundred pounds. "I love you. You know that, right"

His reaction was horribly, woefully, terribly awful. He burst out in a laugh. She didn’t take it personally. 

"Scully, I'm the FBI's top criminal profiler. Besides if the trip to McMurdo was a red flag from me, I think the arctic circle plane ticket and Fox-icle ice bath you threw me into probably alerted Them and everyone else to how you felt." Mulder cracked his first grin of the night. "Besides, you basically bronco-ed me in Kroner so I kinda had an idea."

She shoulder shoved, "Cuddling does NOT constitute bronco-ing," and at his interested "Mmm?," she smile/pouted back, the dimpling in her chin making her impossibly cute. 

They set their beers down on the table. 

She jumped off the cliff first. "Where do we go from here?"

"No clue, Scully. I can't be who you need me to be right now, fuck, maybe ever… and your stubborn ass isn't going to quit hauling mine out of trouble." He was at his most self-deprecating. 

She huffed a laugh out her nose, used her left hand to double clasp his right, her fingers working down the delicate bones of his metatarsals. She let her head fall to his shoulder and they relaxed back together on his couch, still punch and literal drunk. 

Mulder sighed, whiskey-tired, and buried his face in her hair, pressing a kiss down just under her part. His voice was bedroom soft. "I can't give you anything right now, Dana. I’m less than half of what you deserve.”

She was quiet for minutes… hours he felt.

“Mulder. Maybe someday. You’ll let me figure out for myself what I deserve.”

He made a low sound in the base of his throat and nosed her hair past her neck, tugged her down with him onto the couch, and wrapped his arms around her. The weight of her on his chest brought him more peace than he’d felt for thirty years. He breathed in and out deeply. This was out of the car.

When he woke up, she was gone, but there was a steaming to-go cup of coffee on his table and a note, in her distinct cursive. “Mulder, before the world ends, figure your shit out. -S”

He smiled. Leaned back with his coffee. Crumpled the note up and tossed it in the air like a basketball. His phone rang. 

“Mulder.”

“Spook. How ya feeling? You were a little rough last night, bruh.”

“Things are looking up, Dan. How are you?”


End file.
